


Encore

by tacomuerte



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, But I hope happy, Don't know if the ending will be happy or sad, F/F, Romance, Time Travel, Tragedy, Wrote this while I had a fever so yeah...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-29 01:10:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6352909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tacomuerte/pseuds/tacomuerte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beca Mitchell's perfect life came to an end when the woman she loved died. She has one chance to go back and fix it.</p><p>Nothing's going to stop her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

This is not a story with a happy ending.

At least, it doesn’t have one for me. I know that now. You would think I wouldn’t be okay with that. I mean, everyone wants their happy ending, but it’s just a matter of priorities.

There was this book I read once, _What’s the Matter with Kansas?_ , for a poli-sci class sophomore year. The author had asked why people in Kansas would keep voting for guys that made their day-to-day lives harder and long story short, the answer he came up with was they weren’t very smart and were sorta racist.

I didn’t care enough to think about it more than to memorize the parts I needed to pass the final.

But now… now I’ve been thinking about it. A lot. Not because I care much about Kansas or anything. It’s that… I don’t even know anymore. I think it’s that those dumbass racists weren’t voting against their best interests. It’s that they have different interests—different priorities you could say—than the dude that wrote the book. 

I’ve made my choices and yeah maybe I’ve given up a fuckload and it’s not in my best interests, but you know… it’s worth it because she gets to smile. She gets to live this time. I’m going to see this through to the end, and Chloe gets her happy ending. I don’t care what the fuck happens to me as long as she gets that.

It’s the least I can do.

* * *

These things always start with some sob story. Mine’s no different. Young, aspiring music producer falls in love with her gorgeous redheaded friend in college, and finds out that her friend feels the same way. It’s not just sex. It’s not just you’re really fond of each other. It's love—scary and exciting and mind-blowing all at the same time. And it’s even more wonderful than you thought it could be.

After graduation, the producer and her girl move to LA. They find happiness. They get married even though the producer swore when she was sixteen that she would have a lobotomy before she would ever get married. They’ve started talking about maybe even adopting soon, which… so scary but also so exciting. The whole nine yards. No picket fence though because LA doesn’t do that, but a small apartment near the beach is better than mowing the damn lawn any day of the week. 

We got all that. We got to live the dream for three years. 

Things were so smooth. I was working my way up at the studio. Paying my dues. I’m bragging I know, but I was getting to be hot shit. People liked working with me. Hot artists began asking **specifically** to work with me, so yeah there was that. Chlo used to gush to our friends and her family about how talented I am because I can figure out where two songs fit together. Bullshit. It’s not like I cured cancer or something. 

She was the talent, really. She taught music and dance at a private school, and she was brilliant at it. Even after the node surgery my freshman year, her voice was pure and true and lovely, and it had this maturity to it that it didn’t have before, you know? I'm not saying her voice wasn’t perfect before. Everything about her was perfect. Chloe was like sunshine. The old song’s true. Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone.

Anyway, she made these kids’ lives better. Chloe made everyone’s life better. She taught tone-deaf kids to find joy in singing. She worked with the ones that had three left feet and made them feel like a fucking star on the stage when their moms and dads and all the rest of their family showed up with video cameras on a Wednesday night for the sole purpose of watching a really bad school play. Except it wasn’t. It was always so fucking special because Chloe made it special just like she made me special.

She made those kids and those parents feel like they could do anything. You want fucking talent? That’s goddam talent in fucking spades.

And now she’s dead.

Last thing I said to her was some wiseass crack as she left for work about not forgetting the milk when she stopped by the store on her way home like she had last time. I gotta have my fucking morning cereal, right? And now she’s dead. Hit by some dumbfuck who ran a red light while she was in the crosswalk. Because she turned around to go back after my fucking milk that she forgot. I should have went out and got it myself. It’s not like I can’t walk two blocks to the fucking supermarket. So I pretty much got her killed.

All the girls have tried to talk to me about how the last thing Chlo would want is for me to blame myself. Like I don’t know that. She was the closest thing to an angel that’s ever existed in this shithole of a world. Even Bree told me that Chloe would want me to be happy, and from ten feet away I can feel her rage bubbling just under the surface. I know she wants to blame me like I blame myself. Know why she hasn’t up and slapped the shit out of me for being the loser that got her best friend killed? Because Chloe wouldn’t want that. And whatever Chlo wanted, Bree and I would have moved heaven and earth to make come true. That’s what I mean about how special she was. Bree and I… we’re both so angry all the time. Both have fathers that just… well, both the fuckers can go to hell. That’s all I want to say about them. Chloe, though, made us want to be better. Made us want to be happy instead of angry.

I told all of the girls that Chloe can’t want anything now because she’s dead and once you’re dead you’re just something they put in the ground or burn to ash. They didn’t like that. I don’t care. I even punched through a window for emphasis. Bree and the others made sure I didn’t bleed out before I got to the ER. They’re better than me. They should have left me bleeding.

So that’s why I’m sitting here with a bandaged hand at the funeral of the best person I’ll ever know. The girl I loved.

Everyone’s treating me like I’ll explode. They’re right probably, but I feel like the fight’s gone out of me. I have nothing left. The girls refuse to let me be by myself—not even to go to the fucking toilet. They think I’ll do something stupid. Right now, I don’t think dying sounds stupid at all.

But I keep telling myself that I can’t make this all about me. Chloe’s death matters because everyone loved her. They should be thinking about her. Everyone should be. I’m not gonna make this about me. Maybe if I think it enough times it’ll stick.

The service passes in a blur. Sure, it’s a cliché but things are cliché because they’re true. Everyone’s crying. I can’t even speak. I don’t trust myself not to go crazy. Make a scene. Chlo deserves better than that.

So yeah. Just keep grinding. Let the girls do what they think Chloe would want and keep me company. Everyone’s there. Everyone’s sad. I’m not special in my grief. Her mom and dad loved her. They’re devastated, too. The light’s gone out of the world.

* * *

Once the service is over, the girls take me home. They’re going to take shifts for a couple of days or however long it takes to make sure I’m okay. I don’t even bother telling them that’s not happening ever. After a while in the cramped apartment that was plenty spacious for two but not much more, they decide to take me to the beach to watch the sunset. I think they hope the air will do me good.

Sunset and sunrise were Chloe’s favorite moments of the day although it wasn’t like she couldn’t find something great about every time of day. I don’t know if she knew how amazing I thought she was. I’m pretty sure she couldn’t have because I’m really bad at positive communication. I learned that from a therapist when I was an angry teenager. Some things don’t really change.

The sunset is beautiful. Red and pink and soft, and it makes my stomach feel like it’s about to boil over. Everyone’s giving me space for a while until Lilly comes to sit by me.

Usually you can’t hear a sound when she speaks unless you’re sitting in absolute silence, but this time I can hear her plain over the waves crashing on the shore and a dog barking as it chases a ball some kid keeps throwing for it. She’s talking about her time machine and she can send me back but time wants to happen the way it does for a reason… whatever the fuck that means.

I ask her that and she explains to me that things do happen for a reason and if you want to change it all, you’ve got to make that reason happen another way.

If the universe killed Chloe for a reason, the universe can go fuck itself. 

I tell her that and she laughs. That makes me feel a little less shitty if even for just a second.

But I ask myself why not go with this and see where it leads? I wasn’t going to be around much longer anyway. If this doesn’t work because Lilly’s a nut, then what have I lost? Maybe an hour or so. And I can still check out permanently once people stop monitoring me 24/7.

So I tell her I’m in if she can make it happen. She smiles and keeps explaining. She’s got this machine and it works with your brain. Sends you back or forward although back is easier and either way it just plops you into a body like that old TV show. Except if it’s in my own lifetime, I get dropped into my own body. Convenient. I don’t get it really but I also don’t give a shit if I do.

All I gotta do then is pay attention and the timestream that Lilly keeps talking about like it’s alive or something will show me the way and it’ll be obvious.

Again, why the fuck not?

Later, Lilly volunteers to stay the night with me. The others, especially Bree, are dubious about the idea, but I tell them I could use the quiet. They accept that and soon it’s just the two of us. 

Lilly pulls this ball out of her bag that looks like it’s some sort of metal, and then all of a sudden it’s floating in the air and glowing like it’s made out of nothing but light. 

I’m fucking terrified. Not because I’m afraid of whatever this thing is or that it might hurt me or something. I’m scared it might work. That means I have a chance. The only thing I can’t deal with is having that chance taken away from me either because this is a bunch of insane bullshit or because it does work and I screw it up.

But I have a chance, and I’m going to goddam take it with both hands, and nothing’s going to make me let it go.

She tells me I have to concentrate on what I want—what I need—and then touch the light. 

I know what I need. I need Chloe happy and safe and living a long life. There’s nothing else in my head. I can guaran-fucking-tee that. 

Taking a deep breath, I reach out. I can feel tears rolling down my cheeks because just maybe this is real and it will work. My fingers make contact with the light and there’s this flash.

* * *

I’m sitting in a cab, and I recognize where I’m at in an instant. Barden. First day of freshman year.

I’m home. Our first home. This dumb college on the outskirts of Atlanta where I found her and the rest of the weirdos who mean more than anyone or anything else in the world to me. They’re my home. She’s my home.

Chloe’s alive and trying to put back together a shattered a capella group with her best friend, Aubrey. Chloe’s alive, and she’s going to stay that way. I don’t care what I have to do to make that a reality, but I’m all in. I have my chance, and I’m taking it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. Not taking a break from my other fiction(s) just had a fever and literally started typing this, so it's barely edited.
> 
> ... it might also have a lot to do with Clexa feels. I'm devastated over that. I don't want to be preachy, but if you're feeling overwhelmed by that reach out to someone. I'm only saying that because I was there too at a really low point a long time ago. Just know that no matter what there are people out there that do care for and love you, and probably there's someone that would travel through time to fix things for you if they could.
> 
> Peace and love.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything italicized is the original timeline before Beca went back into the past.

I take a deep breath and think for a second. Okay. Yeah. Okay, so… It worked. Or I’m crazy. I’d rather not be crazy, so I’m going with the idea it worked.

I have a new question, though. What now? Lilly said something about knowing what to do. The cabbie’s making noise about being paid, so I shove cash at him and stop him from messing with my bags. My mixing equipment’s in there just like… last time? Not sure how to put it.

Holy fuck, it worked. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the idea. I should probably give up on that. Who knew all that crazy shit Lilly said was true? Come to think of it, I’d rather some of the stuff she came up with not be true at all, but whatever.

So yeah. I’m here. And I’m standing here like a goober, but that’s okay. I remember doing the same seven years ago.

That’s when I hear the 70’s rock blasting from behind me.

_* * *_

_I **so** do not want to be here. I wish my stupid dad hadn’t decided that my high school graduation ceremony was the perfect time to assert his damn dad authority and insist I go get a free college education that isn’t going to do a damn thing for me instead of moving to LA and getting started on my career. I wish my damn mom hadn’t agreed with him. What the hell, mom? The dude dumped us and then you side with him? What a damn waste of time._

_It feels good I ditched him, though. He wanted me to call when I arrived at the airport, but I’ve got cab money and it’s less time with Professor Mitchell._

_The cabbie moves to get my bags, and I stop him. Precious cargo, dude. He pulls away and I stare at all the idiots buzzing around excited to be wasting their time for four years. Suddenly my ears are being assaulted by the awful “music” of Kansas. Christ, who listens to that shit anymore? I refuse to turn around even though the idiot starts cranking the radio higher._

_I kneel and pretend to check my bags when I’m really seeing what’s up with Mr. Golden Oldies (because no woman’s going to be jamming to that pile of noise.) It’s a cute guy… okay **really** cute… which is a plus but I’m not here to date—and also I mostly prefer the ladies. He is cute, though._

_He’s obviously trying to get my attention, which is why he turned the radio up. I had hoped it might be some other lucky girl. Yay me._

_Luckily, he doesn’t notice I’ve caught on, so he gives a shrug when the car he’s riding in pulls away._

_I hope every dude on this campus isn’t like that moron._

* * *

Never change, Jesse, you loveable goofball. Great friend. Even better boyfriend (and eventual husband) to Aubrey after he wore her down… er… I guess it’s now that he wears her down this year. Again. Christ, this is confusing.

Whatever. Any amount of confusion is worth it. I get to watch Aubrey kiss him again after we win the finals this year, and that’s always been a great memory. Chlo and I were so happy to see them find each other. Of course, the first few days before he figured out I’m not into him sure were awkward. That might be funnier this time around knowing the outcome, though…

And that’s when it hits me.

“It” being some weird, blue-ish haze around everything, and I’ve got this urge to turn around and smile at Jesse while he's playing air guitar to Kansas. It feels… not exactly the **right** thing to do but more like what I’m supposed to do… like something’s buzzing in the back of my head telling me if I want Chloe to end up alive and happy, this is what I’ve got to do. Not a voice or anything. I just **know**.

So I turn and give Jesse my best smirk and eyeroll. He smiles back as the car he’s riding in takes off, and I’m being accosted by a girl prattling about dorms and rape whistles. That’s when I notice the blue light is gone.

So that’s what Lilly meant. Fine. I can work with this. Just follow along. Hopefully the blue light will tell me if it thinks I’m fucking everything up.

I grab the whistle, make a moment of awkward small talk—my specialty—and head for Baker Hall dodging a bunch of idiot kids. Oh god… I’m younger than most of them now. I hate teenagers. I was so glad to finally not be one anymore, and now I’m eighteen. Again. I think about that for a second and realize I’m happier being twenty-five and closer to thirty every day. I chalk it up to being with Chloe. She made every day one to look forward to.

I still know the way to my dorm room like I’ve been sleeping there still every night, so I go and get myself reintroduced to Kimmy Jin. You know how people like to say it’s nice some things never change? No one’s ever thought that about Kimmy Jin. Hell, she’s actually worse than I remember, so I play stupid just to annoy the piss out of her. It works, and I smile internally.

That’s when I remember I’m about to get ambushed by Dad. I consider climbing out the window and running, but why delay the inevitable?

He’s still fucking obnoxious. Yeah, he cares. Yeah, he regrets what happened. Yeah, we worked through all that shit mostly. But he’s still not a dude you put faith in.

Dad tries for the funny and fails, and I’m hit with another difference in me from seven years ago. I actually feel bad for him and consider making peace… maybe going to lunch with him… and the second wave of weird so far today hits me. This time it’s not a blue tint to everything. It’s a dull grey like all the hope’s been drained out of the world, and my stomach feels unsettled.

As much as I would rather not fight with him, I have to go to the Activities Fair. Again, not words, but a complete certainty that I have to do this if I want to get what I’m here for. I don’t think I have any choice but to trust it.

I make some of my usual smartass comments to shut him out and then I glom onto Kimmy Jin who’s leaving, too, and the color of the world goes back to a nice, bright, sunny normal.

Good. Gotta keep focus.

Kimmy Jin and I mutually ditch each other the moment we’re out the door. Living with her again for a year is going to be loads of laughs.

I browse around. I’m in no hurry. I know where I’ll end up and it’s nice to get acquainted with the campus and the people I’ll come to know and admittedly like over the next few years. I chat with Amy at the Deaf Jews of Barden table. They’re good kids. The Bellas performed at their fundraiser junior year.

After Amy breaks off when some guy catches her eye, I make my way towards the Bellas’ table. I see them before they see me, and I shift directions ducking out of their sight. It’s too much. I feel like my heart might explode. Chloe’s there—alive and beautiful and perfect.

Aubrey looks super stressed. I remember that look. It all goes back to Puke-Gate. That bitch, Alice, and Aubrey’s dad nearly pushed her over the edge in the aftermath. And Chloe is doing her best to hold her friend together in all of this. Anything you might ever need to know about Chloe Beale is on display right here. Loyalty. Determination. Love.

For a couple of minutes, all I can do is watch while they try to convince some girl to join them. It doesn’t go well.

I didn’t realize how hard this would be to relive.

* * *

_I’m lucky to make a narrow escape from mandatory bonding time with Professor Mitchell. Appears dad thinks these four years are going to be “quality bonding time” or some shit. Fuck that and fuck him. Also, fuck the stepmonster. Just… fuck everyone._

_That includes my new roommate who hates me. That’s going to make life even more painful while I wait however long it takes Dad to figure out I’m not going to pass any classes ever and lets me get on with my life._

_I’m wandering aimlessly when I see a blonde girl insulting some deaf kid or something. I catch a bit of what she’s saying. She’s maybe being a bit mean, but she’s definitely hilarious._

_I don’t stop, though. I see in the distance a booth with a sign for the college radio station. That might be my speed. Maybe I can even get them to play some of my mixes. It’s not LA, but it’ll do in the meantime._

_As I make my way over to the station’s booth, I’m interrupted with a flyer in my face and a bright cheery voice._

_“Hi!” I can’t see the owner of the flyer, but I’m guessing they’re talking to me seeing how all I can see is a piece of paper about something called The Barden Bellas._

_“The hell?” I ask, surprised._

_“Sorry! I didn’t think you heard me, and I wanted to speak to you!” The same someone answers. It’s a really pretty voice, too._

_I push the flyer away, and see the voice belongs to the hottest girl I’ve ever seen in my life. Red hair. Athletic body. Killer smile. The bluest damn eyes that have ever existed._

_So that whole "not here to date" thing? Fuck that noise. I stand there for a moment taking the sight of her in, and then I reach into my repertoire of wit hoping to impress her before coming up empty. Well, maybe I still got a shot with the really cute dude with the crappy taste in music if he’s still around because I think my mouth-open drooling isn’t going to be a winning move here. This girl is way out of my league._

_“Uh… what?” I finally manage._

_The blonde slightly behind Red snorts and rolls her eyes. Yeah, I deserve that. Glancing over at her, I start wondering what they put in the water at this damn college. Both of them are fucking hot. And of course, I’m standing here looking like a dope._

_“Let me start over!” Red says with a smile. “I’m Chloe, and this is Aubrey.” She gestures at her friend. “Any interest in joining our a capella group?”_

_“Aca-what now?”_

_“A capella,” the blonde girl, Aubrey, answers. She sounds annoyed._

_Chloe chimes back in happily picking up where Aubrey leaves off._

_“A capella is where we sing covers of songs, but we do it without any instruments. It’s all from our mouths.”_

_My first instinct is to jump on the “mouths” comment because I definitely want acquaint myself with either or both of their mouths better, but I decide that being an asshole will get me nowhere with Chloe. She seems like the earnest type, and honestly? It’s charming. Nothing wrong with enthusiasm. You wouldn’t know it to look at me, I guess, but if I’m into something, I get excited just like anyone else._

_So I don’t take the bait and make a lewd joke about their mouths._

_But I do think about making the joke… and their mouths. What? They’re nice mouths._

_I’m not sure what to say, though, since I’m restricting myself from my usual smartass responses, so I just blurt the first non-dirty thing that comes into my head._

_“Wait, that’s a thing?” Okay, maybe that’s more smartass than I intended._

_The blonde girl, Aubrey, narrows her eyes angrily. Yeah. That definitely came out more smartass than I intended._

_“Is that a problem? Too lame for someone as cool as you?” she asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm. I get the feeling I don’t want to answer the wrong way here._

_“Whoa, dude!” I say holding my hands up as a sign of peace. “I’m into music, too, just y’know different music.”_

_Chloe instantly brightens and Aubrey visibly relaxes._

_“I mean,” I continue. “EDM is my thing, but there’s nothing wrong or stupid about singing without having instruments to cover for mistakes. It’s like… singing naked or something. I mean… it takes talent and guts to do that.” Smooth, Mitchell. You'll have 'em eating out of your hand in another decade or two if you keep this up._

_But it seems to do the trick because for a second, I think Aubrey might hug me or something before she settles back into trying to look cool and collected. I get it. Nothing kills your image faster than geeking out._

_Chloe, though, has zero chill. She claps excitedly, and her grin threatens to split her face in two._

_“So you sing?”_

_I shrug._

_“Yeah, but I don’t know if I’m good enough to go on stage without my mixes.” That’s the truth. I’m decent, but without music behind me? I don’t know…_

_“You should still audition!” Chloe says._

_I hesitate._

_“I don’t know. Like I said, EDM is my thing.”_

_“EDM?” Aubrey asks._

_“Electronic dance music, Bree,” Chloe answers. “Club music.” She turns back to me. “Omigosh! Are you a DJ?”_

_I smile._

_“That’s the goal, but not yet.” It’s flattering to have someone be so interested in my music. I can admit that._

_“I don’t know if our styles would be compatible,” Aubrey says with a frown. She glances at my ears._

_“What?” I ask._

_“She thinks you might be too alternative,” Chloe answers with a smirk and an eyeroll, but it’s obvious she’s being playful._

_“My ear spikes?” I ask._

_“Yeah,” Chloe responds. Aubrey huffs, and I laugh._

_“Dude,” I say. “They come out. And I’m not sure I want to audition anyway.”_

_Both of them look a bit disappointed. That sucks, so I make an offer._

_“Look, I want to sign up to work at the radio station, but if you really want I’ll think about coming to the audition. And if you want to see if we’re compatible on a musical level, Aubrey… um… Who’s your favorite artist?”_

_It’s going to be some poppy 90’s girl band. I can tell. Nothing wrong with that I suppose, but it’s not very daring. Still, it will be a challenge to mix that into something all three of us might like._

_“Mariah Carey,” the blonde answers. Yeah, 90’s like I expected, but could be a lot worse._

_“Okay, she’s got a great voice. Tell you what, let me make a mix. I’ll need a few days. Can I get your numbers?”_

_Aubrey shrugs as Chloe nods, and Chloe gives me her number. I text her to put her into my phone, and I smile. Okay, so maybe it’s a bit underhanded, but I got the number, didn’t I?_

_“I’ll give you a text when I’m done, and maybe we can get coffee and give it a listen?” I’m mentally crossing my fingers this works._

_Aubrey is the first to speak, mostly because Chloe seems too giddy to form words. Fine, I’m definitely flattered._

_“Okay,” she says. “It’s worth a shot, and you do seem passionate about your music.”_

_“Definitely,” I say. My grin almost matches Chloe’s, which again zero chill but I just got the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever laid eyes on to give me her number. “I still gotta get a flyer from the radio station, but I’ll text soon, and if you like it, I’ll audition, okay?”_

_They wave goodbye and I get out of there before I manage to embarrass myself. I grab a flyer and do a little victory dance when I get back to my room. Kimmy Jin’s there, but if she doesn’t like it, fuck her._

* * *

Time to sack up and do what needs doing. Keeping in mind Chloe and Aubrey have no idea who I am at this point, I put on my most bored, casual face—admittedly I’ve had decades of practice so it isn’t too hard—and I’m walking by trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do without a push from The Big Blue Light of What the Hell Ever, and I’m just starting to think maybe I’ll have to make another pass in a few minutes when there’s a flyer shoved in my face.

“Hi,” Chloe says, and my heart shatters at the sound of her voice. “Any interest in joining our a capella group?”

Of course, the blue tint to the world shows up right then and I know what to do. Or at least what it wants me to do, and I don’t like it. At all. I’m going to be a prick if I say this… Scratch that. Make that **when** I say this.

“Oh, right,” I respond with like zero interest. “So this is like a thing now.”

Great. Just great. I can already see Aubrey’s eyes narrowing. Nothing pisses her off quicker than acting like something she cares about is trivial, except hurting Chloe, and dismissing a capella like a sneering, snobby asshole is guaranteed to do both.

But the light is still there… still glowing… and I know this is the right thing to do if I want Chlo to live and be happy. This light better be fucking right or I’m kicking Lilly’s ass.

“Oh totes,” Chloe continues putting on her best smile. I know that smile. It’s the one where she sees something in someone and isn’t about to give up on them. That’s the smile that won me the first time. “We sing covers of songs but we do it without any instruments. It’s all from our mouths.”

“Yikes.” I’m starting to really hate myself. Fortunately, Bree won’t put up with this shit much longer. I can tell. Chloe’s saying something about the other groups on campus. I’m not really listening because this is stuff I already know by heart. She finishes up looking at me hopefully.

“So are you interested?” she asks. There’s a slight tremor in her voice she’s doing her best to hide. The only two people in the world that can pick up on it are standing right here, though. Every part of me is screaming at myself to say yes. Every. Single. Part.

But I can feel that nudge in the back of my head, though, pushing me to up the ante even more. I just hope Bree doesn’t stroke out or slash my damn throat.

“Sorry, it’s just it’s pretty lame.”

And yeah, that’s done it. I’ve got Bree on my case now, and I don’t blame her one bit. Some pretentious hipster fuck (and god was I a fucking hipster when I was eighteen) takes a giant shit on something I love? I will cut them. Bree and I got that in common. It’s one of the things we bonded over the first time I lived this. Looks like this time, I’m going to make an enemy instead of a potential friend today.

“Aca-scuse me?” Bree asks with that tone she uses when what she really means is “Best put on a helmet, Buttercup, because you and I are going to war.”

I just stare at her blankly. She takes a breath and her posture is rigid. Sometimes I forget how much taller she is than I am. She’s no Stacie when it comes to being way too damn tall for my liking, but there’s only room for one sexy Godzilla on the squad I guess.

“Synchronized lady dancing to a Mariah Carey chart topper is not lame!” Bree finishes, daring me to contradict her. Honestly, it’s not her best line, but I know she’s been off her game since the fiasco at Nationals.

Chloe tries to step in and salvage this.

“We sing all over the world and we compete in national championships,” Chloe says, still holding onto that hopeful smile. I hate that I have to crush that hope.

“On purpose?” I ask, knowing I’ll be up all night playing this conversation in my head and hating every second of it.

Bree’s about to lose it. She has that half-smile of hers signaling that it’s go-time, and I’m actually glad Chlo’s between us because Bree might literally kill me on the quad in front of everyone if Chlo wasn't.

“We played the Cobb Energy Performing Arts Centre, you bitch!” Aubrey hisses at me.

Chloe’s smile is almost gone, but she’s doing what she can to keep me alive and in one piece.

“What Aubrey means to say,” Chloe says, stepping in again. “Is that we are a close-knit, talented group of ladies whose dream is to return to the national finals at Lincoln Centre this year. Help us turn our dreams into a reality?”

It’s really a good pitch. It worked on me the first time although I hadn’t been an antagonistic bitch then… okay, I was always an antagonistic bitch. Still am, but I wasn’t quite such a fucking jackass the last time.

“Sorry,” I say, lying. “I don’t even sing, but it was really nice to meet you guys.”

Whatever the light is doesn’t seem to like that last part, but screw it. I’m going to beat myself up over this enough already. Might as well say **something** nice.

I walk away without looking back and swing by the radio station’s booth before retreating to the safety of my room. I need a nap. Kimmy Jin is there, glaring, but I have not a single fuck to give.

I realize I kept the flyer for the Bellas. I hold it close as I drift off to sleep. I don’t know what it is I have to do, but so far it’s not fun at all.

Maybe it will get better. I doubt it, but I don’t want to give up hope. Either way, I just keep telling myself this is for Chloe until I fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we have a bit of a sliding doors type of situation. I hope everyone enjoys the chapter. 
> 
> Honestly, I'm nervous about this and would love feedback if it's well done or needs to be reworked or even trashed.
> 
> Thank you again for reading!
> 
> (Now back to my other Pitch Perfect fiction whereupon I have discovered that writing karaoke scenes is exponentially more difficult than I realized.)


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